le, and tell you of Lee Bullock's piroute
and Stonewall Jackson's charge.

We rushed down to the big spring bursting out of the mountain side,
and it was hot enough to cook an egg. Never did I see soldiers more
surprised. The water was so hot we could not drink it.

The snow covered the ground and was still falling.

That night I stood picket on the Potomac with a detail of the Third
Arkansas Regiment. I remember how sorry I felt for the poor fellows,
because they had enlisted for the war, and we for only twelve months.
Before nightfall I took in every object and commenced my weary vigils.
I had to stand all night. I could hear the rumblings of the Federal
artillery and wagons, and hear the low shuffling sound made by troops on
the march. The snow came pelting down as large as goose eggs. About
midnight the snow ceased to fall, and became quiet. Now and then the
snow would fall off the bushes and make a terrible noise. While I was
peering through the darkness, my eyes suddenly fell upon the outlines of
a man. The more I looked the more I was convinced that it was a Yankee
picket. I could see his hat and coat--yes, see his gun. I was sure
that it was a Yankee picket. What was I to do? The relief was several
hundred yards in the rear. The more I looked the more sure I was.
At last a cold sweat broke out all over my body. Turkey bumps rose.
I summoned all the nerves and bravery that I could command, and said:
"Halt! who goes there?" There being no response, I became resolute.
I did not wish to fire and arouse the camp, but I marched right up to it
and stuck my bayonet through and through it. It was a stump. I tell the
above, because it illustrates a part of many a private's recollections
of the war; in fact, a part of the hardships and suffering that they go
through.

One secret of Stonewall Jackson's success was that he was such a strict
disciplinarian. He did his duty himself and was ever at his post,
and he expected and demanded of everybody to do the same thing. He would
have a man shot at the drop of a hat, and drop it himself. The first
army order that was ever read to us after being attached to his corps,
was the shooting to death by musketry of two men who had stopped on the
battlefield to carry off a wounded comrade. It was read to us in line
of battle at Winchester.

SCHWARTZ AND PFIFER

At Valley Mountain the finest and fattest beef I ever saw was issued to
the soldiers, and it was